


Death Owns No Watch

by nuttyasafruitcake



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, M/M, Master of Death, Mystery, Reincarnation, Suspense, The Deathly Hallows, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 09:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11033103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuttyasafruitcake/pseuds/nuttyasafruitcake
Summary: The past, present and future are of no importance. If a title has been acquired once, it can never be lost, because somethings are meant to happen. And some lives must end early. For another to begin.





	1. When it is dark enough, you can see the stars

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a rewrite of 'Knowledge is Power'. However, somewhere along the way the plot deviated completely from the original. And now, only a few scenes and ideas remain. Nontheless, I hope you'll enjoy!
> 
> A huge thanks to Solthebookaddictfor helping me!

**I**

**øØø**

**_12.02.1944_ **

**20:26**

**_The Kitchen Table_ **

Time runs together with us as we age. A companion through life as we wake, walk and wither. Fates are discovered. We know nothing of our future. Years, hours and seconds from now are something to be uncover. As it should be.

All in due time.

No one knows.

No one, but death.

We progress with time, while death has no concept of time whatsoever. It does not exist as we do. It just is.

The past, present and future are of no importance.

If a title has been acquired once, it can never be lost, because somethings are meant to happen.

And some lives must end early. For another to begin.

**øØø**

**1937**

February had been unusually cold. A thin layer of snow was covering the rooftops and the streets were dusted in frost. Stars had migrated down onto the streets and were shimmering in the darkness.

Harrison could see his breath. Soft clouds of white smoke, an indication of his beating heart.

The streets were shrouded in darkness, lit up only by the light pouring out of several windows. Soft and yellow in their heat, an uncomfortable contrast to the white surroundings on the streets.

His hands were numb from the cold and his bare feet trembling in thin shoes. The piercing wind blowing through had no sympathy for his pitiful state.

Harrison brought his quivering hands up to his mouth in a futile attempt on breathing life to them. Warm, soft breath never quite reaching his pale fingertips. Only the chilling vapor biting into delicate skin.

A quiet 'click' and the window above him was shoved open. Then laughter flowed out along with the faint sound of Schubert's Ganymede. The one and only song, his mother owned. Harrison knew it by heart.

He stared silently up at the open window, pursing his lips in self-pity and stubbornness. Soon now, a few minutes and he would be able to heat up his frozen body.

And just as predicted, after another layer of frost, the front door swung open with a piercing squeak. Forest green eyes glancing up from his crouching position, Harrison observed the foreign man lean in to give his mother a final lingering touch and a couple of shillings. The metal cut through the darkness like a knife.

The elderly man stepped back and hurried down the front steps, only sliding a quick look at the young boy beside the door, before disappearing into a side alley.

Harrison pulled his knees closer to his chest, jaw tightening and teeth gnashing. His mother sighed loudly and he looked back at her just as she lightened a cigarette. A deep, rasping inhale and a smokey exhale followed by light coughing. Her lungs grinding against crumbling walls.

"Get inside, precious…" a quiet murmur, eyes drifting down the street. "It's cold outside." Her greying skin was covered in goosebumps. The brown scarf hanging over her bare shoulders doing little to keep the heat she had acquired minutes earlier.

His mother had been beautiful once. Even now, with her skeletal frame and chaotic, coal-black hair framing a picture of continual sorrow, she was stunning.

Fascinating and intriguing; drawing people in much like a particularly gruesome murder scene.

**øØø**

  **øØø**

Their apartment was shrouded in a constant mist of cigarette smoke and burned food. It clung to the walls and furniture, itching itself into the skin.

Consisting only of a clustered kitchen and a living room, with a bed and a deteriorating couch, it was no place for a child. Floorboards creaked, moulding pillows itched and the kitchen was drowning in dirty dishes, it was the only home Harrison had ever known. A painful couch was always better than the unforgiving streets.

"Dear, are you hungry?" She grinned widely, brown teeth gnashing against each other. Harrison looked away quickly, nodding silently in reply as he sat down by the kitchen table.

The table was a castle of dirty dishes and old newspapers. Towering over Harrison and leaving little space for eating. It seemed to increase in height every time Harrison washed something; an illustration of his decomposing house. He'd never be able to dig his way out of the dirt.

Harrison pushed at a pile of outdated newspapers, trying to make space. The push disturbed the fragile balance on the table and another pile of papers and some dishes crashed to the floor. He winced, shoulders lifting at the awful sound. Glancing up at his mother revealed her standing unbothered in front of the oven, cigarette in hand. A soft melody between her lips.

Sighing, his eyes glided over the tower of garbage and down on the piles of newspapers. And for some peculiar reason, one text caught his eye. Like a moth to a flame: a compulsion. Harrison leaned forward, eyes furrowing in confusion. As he focused at the article, he noticed another odd thing. Just underneath it was a completely clean, white envelope. It stood out like a sore thumb.

Harrison swallowed as he carefully pulled the envelope out from the pile. No one they knew would or could send a letter of such quality. Had it been sent to the wrong address?

Turning the letter over, he saw green lines on the front:

_Harrison Law_

_The Kitchen Table_

_London_

Licking his lips, he glanced around in uncertainty. No one had ever sent him a letter before.

"Here you go," a cracked plate was placed in front of him and his eyes flickered up to his mother, sharp and unyielding. Her wretched eyes met his. "What do you have there, dear? Something for me? Something desirable? Shiny even? A necklace or a ring?" Years of poverty had made her avaricious. She was never able to quench the growing hole in her life. It could only be filled with things she could never have. Things they could never have.

"I was just cleaning the table…" he smiled faintly as he let the letter fall from his fingers. It fell down to the floor, mingling with old papers and broken dishes.

"Really? 'Cause that looks precious…" She was about to crouch down for it when Harrison's hand shot out, catching her elbow.

"Mom, what did you make for me today?"

It was like a switch. Her interest lost and regained. "It's porridge, darling! Pure deliciousness, yes, you'll love it. It is your favorite dish, isn't it?" Her thin hands were brushed past his chin into his hair. Tugging painfully at it as she brought him into an uncomfortable embrace. She smelled of burned porridge, cigarette and decay.

She pulled away, smiling, before strolling out of the kitchen.

Harrison bit his lips, bitterness hot in his chest. The porridge was pitch black. And so was the beautiful white letter when he finally picked it up from the floor.

**øØø**

It wasn't before midnight that Harrison dared bring out the letter again. The couch frame was digging itself into his skin. Hard and unyielding as he tried to make himself comfortable, the letter heavy in his hand.

Forest green eyes glanced at his mother, who was deep asleep. Dark circles beneath her eyes and a raspy breath disturbing the silence. The smoke from her last cigarette still lingering in the air.

Harrison exhaled loudly as he carefully ripped paper. An attempt at disguising the sound of tearing paper. Afraid that the silent noise will awaken the unknown.

He closed his eyes and drew out the letter inside. The paper was thick and smooth.

Then after letting the silence bath him, he glanced down, eyes focusing in the night:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster_

_Armando Dippet_

_Dear Mr. Law,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. Because of your blood status as Muggleborn, we will send a representative teacher to inform you further._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Deputy Headmaster_

He stared down at the paper in disbelief for a moment before his mouth twisted in anger. A cruel trick. Clearly, sent to make fun of him.

Here he was, rotting away in the slums with his decaying mother and someone saw it fit to send him a letter filled to the brim with fairy tails and dreams. Such a cruel, heartless trick. The anger was hot in his chest.

The worst part was: it didn't matter if he believed it or not. No, he had read it and now his childish mind had taken control. Imagination gone wild, traveling over mountains and seas, away from everything he knew. A foolish, hopeful part of his subconsciousness already believing it to be real.

It cut deeper than any knife could.

No dream would ever help him on his way out of the rotting pit of garbage he had grown up in. It would only hinder him.

Harrison stared heatedly down at the letter, then crumbled it forcibly. Somethings were better to be forgotten. The more he thought about it the more it would infest his mind. Like a disease.

Throwing it away, he saw it bump into the wall before landing between two, greying pillows. He'd throw it away in the morning, maybe even burn it. Burn the entire house down with it.

He turned around, pulling the thin blanket over his shoulders.

"I'll get out of here, I will…" A whisper: a quiet promise to the darkness.

The darkness would remember.

Even if no one else did.

**To be continued**


	2. So go ahead. Fall down. The world looks different from the ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million thanks to Solthebookaddictfor! Enjoy!

**II**

**øØø**

The letter had been forgotten a week later, or so he tried to tell himself. No matter how many times he reminded himself of the sheer improbability of the letter, his treacherous mind was stubborn beyond belief.

A step into the kitchen and he remembered the sheer whiteness of the envelope. As he pulled the blanket over him at night, his eyes zoomed in on the two greying pillows and the crumpled paper between them. And every time the image appeared he fruitlessly tried to forget it again.

The only issue was that repressed thoughts didn't stay forgotten very long.

Harrison leaned back against the wall, lips pursing in frustration. He'd migrated to the kitchen floor when his mother had left earlier that day. In there he could switch the oven on and use it as a makeshift fireplace. It was something he only dared do when his beautiful mother was out in town.

Now, perched on the floor, the newspaper in his hands were all but forgotten. Eyes glanced in thought, his body may be situated in the crumbling apartment but his mind was far, far away.

Over dangerous seas, windy hills and deep forests there was another world waiting for him. Hidden, he liked to believe, inside an evergreen forest a small, but well-kept, house stood. Untouched by dirt and darkness. The kitchen, clean and warm, always bathed in light. A warm pot of simmering food and the fragrance of safety.

And a father: another human being capable of strength and stability. In that flawless world, Harrison and his mother had never been abandoned. Deserted by a faceless figure he was incapable of remembering. A man, his mother told different lies about every time Harrison asked.

He had been killed, one unfortunate evening. Stabbed in a dark alley and left to rot. His robbed corpse had been found the next morning, slumped against the wall in a frozen puddle of blood. _He_ , always nameless, had been a soft-hearted man.

He had abandoned her for another woman, a redhead of remarkable beauty. All their valuables had disappeared with him. Her grandmother's precious necklace, their savings and her jewllery collection. _He_ had been a cruel man.

_He_ , whoever he was, had been one of many men that had visited her. A man whose identity would never be known.

The lies went on. Different and more elaborate every time.

Harrison liked to believe that _he_ , his father, had been a loving, but powerful man with striking features. Intense blue eyes in contrast to his dark, curly hair. Pale and blue: an illustration of freedom and death, because he would only abandon them in death.

His father was free of wordly worries. Eyes milky blue in decay.

The kitchen was silent, except from the creaking house and the faint screams from the neighbor. They had fought daily as long as Harrison could remember. Children that terrorized other children, a mother that mistreated them and a father that abused her. He had no sympathy for them.

Harrison jerked in shock as three loud knocks rung though the apartment. The door screamed from the trivial pressure: one of these days a particularly forceful knock would bring it down.

He leaned forward to stare at the door. There were only one kind of people that came to their humble abode. Men and, in a few instances, women knocking on their door with one motive. To buy his mother.

After a moment in silence, he looked back at the newspaper. Then another sequence of knocks brought his eyes right back to the door.

It would be foolish to open the door when he was alone at home. For here he was, ten years old, slightly malnourished, weak and short. If something were to happen, then he would stand no chance.

Harrison bit his lips in consideration and just as he was about to ignore the knocks, the image of a white envelope flashed in the back of his mind. His face twisted in self-disgust and his chest boiled in uncontrollable curiosity.

Sighing loudly, he placed the newspaper down and strolled up to the door where he halted. One hand on the door-handle and another on the key.

He leaned in close to the door. "Yes?" Loud and clear.

Shuffling was heard on the other side, then a delighted breath. "Oh - goodness! Hello!" A masculine voice. "Wonderful weather, don't you think?" Delighted, much like a child. No, few children had voices like that. The happy sound of a content human being that quite possibly knew nothing of hardships. Harrison refused to acknowledge that he may or may not be judging the man on the other side of the door.

"I wouldn't know," he decided to go for, then, "What do you want?"

Shoes dragged over stone and a faint cough: a concealed laugh. "Now, now, my boy. I'm sure you've received the letter. There is no need for such suspicion," the man's smile could be heard through the door. Harrison's jaw tightened. Oh, his suspicion was entertaining, now was it? "You are Harrison Law, are you not?" A sickening voice. A kind one: kindness never came for free.

However, Harrison was only a child and no matter how many times he told himself that he, unlike others, had an intellect to be admired. It was a known fact in their household that he had an unusually curios mind.

_Curiosity killed the cat._ A fleeting thought as Harrison turned the key and opened the door slowly. He peaked out as he told himself that it would make a difference if anyone tried to hurt him.

The man at the doorstep was in his late 50's, with long auburn hair and half-moon glasses. His hair blended into a fine, brown suit, but clashed horribly with the neon yellow shit and the purple tie. It was a chaotic mix of colors. Harrison's eyes immediately zoomed in on the gold chain by his pocket. A gold watch: it looked expensive. The glasses too had a thin gold rim. The old man did not belong there.

It was a wonder the man had made it down their street without being robbed. Odd even.

The man reached out his hand, smiling brightly. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, deputy of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry."

Harrison stared at his pale hand, refusing to open the door further to shake his hand. "A pleasure," he replied, eyes cold. This was the person behind the cruel envelope filled with dreams. "Why are you here? Is this some cruel joke?" It came out as a cutting whisper, his frustration visible beneath the surface.

Dumbledore's hand fell to his side and his smile fell. Blue eyes shimmering with barely concealed sadness: no pity, Harrison saw as much. "I assure you, I'm here with only good intentions." A sympathetic smile bloomed on his face. "More often than not does our subconsciousness lead us to the truth. And I'm sure you've known the truthfulness behind the letter from the moment you read it." The knowing glint in Dumbledore's eyes cut uncomfortably into Harrison. "Am I wrong?"

Harrison glared heatedly. "You're wrong, Mr. Dumbledore." He replied quietly. "I would've been delusional if I believed the letter… without poof." A lie paired with a dare.

A mirthful laugh. "Of course, of course," Dumbledore leaned forward to stare at Harrison. "You've got quite a head between your shoulders, boy!" Harrison was uncertain if it was a compliment.

Dumbledore brushed his hands over the brown suit, eyes glancing down the street. It was still early and the usually barren street was buzzing with life. Blankets drying from open windows, children running together and women yelling after them. The older man's gaze was warm but impersonal. After a few seconds, he looked back at Harrison. "How about we take this conversation inside? I'm sure you mother and father will be ecstatic to hear that you've been given the possibility to study at Hogwarts. It is the best wizarding school in Europe, if not the world!"

Jaw tightening at the mention of a _whole_ family, Harrison nodded slowly as he stepped back, allowing the man to enter the collapsing house. "It's just me and my mother…" His forest green eyes followed Dumbledore, daring him to judge him. "She's out on town, so she's not going to join us." Not if Harrison had a choice.

Harrison guided the man to the kitchen, cheeks heating in embarrassment at the chaos that greeted them. His eyes flickered up to the other man, whose face had smothered out into a mask of sincerity and compassion. Blue eyes darkened with something Harrison could not identify.

Dumbledore sat down at one of the few clean chair, eyes once again bright. "Let me give you a taste of the world we´re welcoming you into!" A cheeky smile. "A world of wonder," He wiped out a thin stick from his pocket and flickered it into the air. A shiver went though the room and everything came alive. "Of magic!" Forgotten sponges shuddered and sprang to life, flying over darkened surfaces and moudly spots. Old newspapers and dirty dishes flew separate ways. A whirl of soap, water and wonder. Harrison's eyes were wide in awe. His chest burning with excruciating hope.

Then, as sudden as it had begun, it ceased to move. The only proof that it had happened the slight fluttering of newspapers falling into place. The kitchen had been transformed. The destroyed chairs had gathered and the creaking floorboards were silent underneath Harrison's weight. It was silent, structured and foreign. And Harrison's eyes had, for the first time in so long, lighted up in childish amazement.

For so many years, had he been telling himself that the unusual things that happened had been a figment of his imagination. The fragile cup that had crashed to the floor, shattering before gathering itself again. The night horrors where pillows and candles floated to the roof. Odd, abnormal occurrences that Harrison desperately had tried to forget. He had almost succeeded in suppression the memories.

However, it was all too clear now. He was unusual, singular!

Dumbledore stared warmly at the wondering child. It never ceased to fascinate him, the innocent wonder that could be found in a child's eyes. Few things in the chaotic world could hold such purity. He leaned back in the chair that was notably less squeaky. Blue eyes twinkling with mirth. Unaware of the smoldering thoughts inside the child's head.

Harrison had been so certain that he would meet an early death together with his mother. A house fire taking them both one silent night. An unlucky day, a violent customer and a knife had been the most plausible cause. At least when he imagined the way they'd go. Now, however, the clear image of his cooling corpse was slowly, but surely, fading into his subconsciousness. Replaced with the image of an empty apartment, abandoned as he dug his way out of the dirt.

Frail fingers pushing the dirt away, nails blackened with mud, Harrison would dig his way out of an early grave.

Alone, he would stand above the corpses of the unfortunate.

Free.

**øØø**

Harrison followed Dumbledore to the door and stepped outside along with him. An hour spent with the man and his numerous explanations had lessened his apprehension considerably.

"I can manage to get the supplies myself, but thank you for offering." Harrison smiled slightly, eyes lingering on the gold chain hanging from Dumbledore 's vest.

"Wonderful! Then I'll see you at Hogwarts in September." Dumbledore replied, then added. "Be sure to contact me if your mother has any questions. I'll be glad to bring some proof if necessary!"

Harrison had no desire to mention Dumbledore's visit to his mother. The plan now was to spend the summer in silence, biding his time until the train left for Hogwarts. There he would step into another world. A world of wonder and beauty. If it was anything like what Dumbledore had showed him, then it would not be anything like the world Harrison lived in at the moment.

Flying plates and self-cleaning dishes were already mind-blowing.

"Harrison, dear," a strike through the silence bought Harrison back to the darkening streets. Forest green eyes widened at the voice, seeking out the source as they landed on his mother only a few feet away. Dressed in black, her sickening white skin stood out like a lantern.

She stepped up beside them, studying Dumbledore with a keen eye. "What have I told you about going out when the house is empty?" Then she leaned forward to brush a light kiss on his forehead. An unusual act that brought warmth into his skin.

"It doesn't matter if I leave our house, there is nothing of value there," he whispered to himself. "nothing worth stealing." And it was the truth. Their home had no value, neither worldly nor spiritual.

"Nonsense!" She swatted his shoulder lightly, before her greediness took a turn for the worse. After all, in front of them stood a man with clothes of fine quality. She had never been the person to turn down a possible customer. "Now, who is this gentleman?" Eyes staring up at Dumbledore through thick lashes. A small smile on her cracked lips.

Dumbledore, who had chosen to remain silent until then, reached out his hand. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, a pleasure." He stepped forward to meet her hand. "You're Harrison's mother, I assume?"

Her coal-black hair fluttered as a gust of wind blew through the streets. She took the opportunity to draw it behind her ear, a shy gesture. "Cassandra Law," seeking eyes, devouring the man in front of her.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Harrison stepped closer to her, hand gripping into her shirt. "Did you go to the market, Mom?" Cassandra's visits to the market were few and far between. The place was far too bright for her fragile skin.

She looked down at him, hand brushing his hair from his face. "I'm supposed to be there at 1 o'clock, so soon." A delightful laugh. "I'm planning a feast tonight, dear. Roasted chicken with potatoes, even carrots. Doesn't that sound delicious? " Her fingers were warm and soothing as they brushed though his hair. A gesture only available in front of her customers. Harmless but oh so sought after.

Dumbledore shifted on his feet and pulled a watch out of his pocket, eyebrows creasing in confusion. "It's 4 o'clock, ma'am." He murmured.

"Oh," she breathed out, confused. She had left at 9 o'clock for the market that morning. "Well, I'll get the groceries tomorrow then. We should have something in the kitchen… How about porridge? It's been days since we ate porridge. Or…" They'd eaten porridge that morning. Burned as always with a teaspoon sugar for extra taste.

The silence cut into the air. Cassandra glanced back at Dumbledore, who stood stiffly in front of them. "Who are you again?" She seemed bewildered, eyes wild.

Dumbledore licked his lips as he brushed his glasses a bit further up his nose. Eyes seeking out Harrison's in a clear question. "Albus Dumbledore, ma'am. I'm the current deputy of Hogwarts." He repeated slowly.

Harrison stared down at his shoes, embarrassed.

"Hogwarts…?" Cassandra returned dumbly. Her clear mind had vanished leaving only emptiness behind.

"Yes, your son has been invited to study at Hogwarts, it's one of the most prestigious schools in Europe. A school for wizardry and witchcraft!" Dumbledore brushed his hands over his suit, eyes gleaming as he mentioned Hogwarts.

It felt misplaced to mention it out on the streets. Reality was too close here and it dulled the truthfulness behind the words.

Cassandra's eyes sharpened and she stepped hurriedly behind Harrison to gather him close to her chest. Fingers digging into his shoulders, she stared daringly at Dumbledore, whose mouth was set in a firm line."And how come Harrison has been invited?" Nails cut into Harrison's skin. "He's nobody and as far as I know, I've never applied him for boarding school at all… "

The doubt in her words was clear and the truthfulness hurtful. They were nobody, only two beings struggling with poverty. For the first time, Cassandra was trying to protect him from what she considered harmful. It was the only time he didn't need nor desire her protection.

The fists from her customers and the kicks from the neighbors had been something he'd require protection from. Not now, it was far too late.

Dumbledore looked conflicted, eyebrows creasing and mouth twitching. "Harrison is what we, in my world, would call a Muggleborn. A magical child born from two non-magical parents. It's quite exceptional and we've yet to discover why magic crosses the border between our worlds to manifest in the child of two Muggles." The entire monologue was slow and clear, warmth lacking and sharpness beginning to worm itself in.

Cassandra stepped back, dragging Harrison with her towards the door. "I'd like you to leave." She hissed, eyes wide in fear.

"Excuse me?" Dumbledore stepped forward, hand reaching out toward them in confusion. He clearly wasn't used to such rude dismissals. Harrison would've thought the man was used to such reactions. The entire premise that he came from another world, one of magic, was improbable without proof.

Opening the door without turning her back to Dumbledore, Cassandra pushed Harrison inside. "Yes," she backed slowly. "goodbye, Mr. Dumbledore." Then she slammed the door shut, leaving the man alone on the streets, hand outreached and eyes cold.

Cassandra was leaning agains the door, breathing heavily. Her hair was a wild mess and her hands twitching.

"Mom," Harrison began slowly. "he was telling the truth. I saw it… look at our kitchen, you can't explain that. I'd like to go there, to Hogwarts." With no possible way of showing her what he'd witnessed, there was no way he could change her mind.

The entire premise was unbelievable.

"No," her eyes cut into him, daring him disagree.

Harrison stepped forward. He had to go there, one way or another. "Mother, wh-" the sudden pain was unexpected and the loud slap of skin against skin rung in his ears. His cheek was warming in pain and his head cooling in anger.

Their eyes clashed and Cassandra straightened her posture to look down on Harrison, hand twitching. "Magic doesn't exist, Harrison." A finger pointing at him. "Miraculous escapes from _this_ isn't possible." Cassandra brushed past him, pushing him out of the way.

Harrison nursed his burning cheek. The act hurt more than the slap itself. It left a sour taste in his mouth.

None of it mattered. His mother, their house or their poverty. He'd been given a way out and he intended to use it.

Her jealousy only fueled his motivation.

She'd have to die alone.

**øØø**

Then, one quiet September morning, Harrison Law had jumped out of the window of Cassandra's apartment, intending on never returning. Her quiet snores and nasty coughs followed him out onto the sleeping streets.

Dumbledore's miracle in their kitchen had held for a week. Then the rot had set back in and the darkness had retuned. Along with the madness. Long nights filled with his mother's bitter tears and whimpers. Days painted with moans and screams. A maddening mixture, a never-ending death.

Harrison wanted to cut it from his skin with a knife.

Luggage slung over his shoulder, he ran though the silent streets. Breath coming out his short breaths and eyes burning.

He would never return.

King's Cross Station was overwhelming. Too many platforms, long rows of people and no information.

One would have thought that finding a platform would be an easy task, but no matter where Harrison looked platform 9 ¾ was nowhere to be seen.

Platform 9 and 10 could easily be found, but there existed no platform between them.

Time was running short and in a final leap of desperation, he ran up to a guard by the entrance. "Excu…" he snapped his mouth shut and turned around to run back, ears burning in embarrassment. He'd understood that non-magical people knew nothing of the magical world. The station could not possibly be out in the open.

He turned around, eyes searching for something, anything of out the usual.

Nothing: only people running back and forth. Luggage in hand and a clear destination in mind.

Harrison could feel the panic spread like a disease. Hot and confused, he sat down at a bench, biting his lips in worry.

"You there," a raspy, whispering voice and when he turned his head, he noticed a greying woman sitting by his side. He hadn't noticed her. Had she been there earlier? "I know where the station is, young master…" Her voice was like the silent breath of the wind. He had to lean closer to catch her words, like sand slipping between his fingers.

Her hair was thin and withering, as grey as her palling skin. Eyes cloudy and clothes fading into the background. Her entire existence was a fading one. Grey upon grey with little to no color.

Harrison stared suspiciously at her. "How do you know?"

Knowing, unseeing eyes. "I know these things, wizarding boy." She laughed, the sound of shattering porcelain.

"How?"

"Some things should not be questioned. I saw your struggling, the desperation in your eyes. Take it as a good fortune, luck, whatever you want. It does not change the fact that your train leaves in less than 10 minutes." She lifted a trembling, thin arm and pointed out into the crowd. Harrison's eyes followed the movement. "You see that wall between platform nine and ten? Walk directly into the wall." An innocent wall, ignored entirely by the masses. "Now, go… Harrison."

A cold shiver ran down his back and his head whipped in her direction, only to find an empty bench. Breath catching, he stood up in a hurry. Eyes seeking as the world spun.

The greying woman was nowhere to be seen.

Only a sea of people.

**To be continued**


	3. Hell is empty and all the devils are here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A millions thanks to Solthebookaddict!

 

**III**

 

**øØø**

 

The Hogwarts express was a sight to behold. A focal point that drew everyone towards it with a strange, inviting pull. Its appearance wasn’t anything out of the ordinary and it could easily be overlooked: if one only saw the train as a heap of metal. 

 

For Harrison, the train was a representation of the magical world. The first step he took, away from cold, grey London and into the green landscapes, towards the unknowns. The Hogwarts Express was so much more than just a _train._ It was a gatekeeper. 

 

Unyielding, sturdy and permanent. 

 

The platform was buzzing with energy, crowded with students and their families. Tearful goodbyes and ecstatic laughter, their happiness grated at his nerves. It stung in his chest to see children at his own age being embraced in loving arms. He was _not_ jealous. 

 

The corridors and compartments weren’t anything spectacular; faded colors, heavy sliding-doors and dusty floors. Even so, it was warm and welcoming, nothing like his mother’s grimy apartment with it’s ever present cold and dirt covering every surface. Harrison sat down and relished at the smooth cushions. No painful springs digging into his back. 

 

He glanced bitterly outside, swallowing harshly. The crowd was thinning, only a few families remaining as the train shook in its tracks. For a single miserable moment, Harrison imagined _her_. Clean clothes, a healthy complexion and a warm smile as she waved goodbye. An image of his mother that didn’t exist. 

 

The unexpected grief swallowed him up and he reached down with trembling fingers to adjust his cuffs. She may have been incapable of caring for him, but somehow she had wormed her way into his heart. And no matter how much he screamed to himself that he _hated_ her, she still remained. Latched to his emotions like a leech. 

 

However, now that he had escaped maybe she’d let him go. _He_ had to let her go. Sitting on the train to a world of wonder, the future was filled with endless possibilities. How could it now? If a kitchen could clean itself with a swish of a wand, Harrison could barely imagine what else could be done. 

 

Surely anything imaginable was possible. 

 

His shoulders hunched. He had a sinking feeling that it was all a dream, too good to be true. And soon he would wake up to the smell of his mother’s burned porridge biting into his nose. Harrison dug his nails into his wrist as he sat down, clutching his eyes close as he counted silently to ten. 

 

The compartment remained unchanged when he opened his eyes again. Empty and aging with dull blue seats and a foggy window. Harrison inhaled deeply before exhaling in relief. The smell of dusty, unused seats and humid air creeping through the window cracks. Completely unfamiliar and enough to calm his nerves.

 

In another life, he’d been _clever_ , and ignored those three knocks. Gone about his day and probably ended his life early. He imagined he’d frame his mother: she deserved nothing less. _A lie,_ he knew, but he tried to believe it. Whisper it enough and it’ll no longer be a lie, but truth. 

 

Harrison leaned back against the seat. So soft; deceptively warm in its kind embrace. He didn’t dare relax completely, subconsciously terrified that it would swallow him up if he exposed his weakness. 

 

Still, his tense muscles loosened up, dulling his mind.

 

The rain was pouring down outside, running down the windows like tears and obscuring the landscape beyond. A soft smile pulled at his lips. The rain did wonders for the earth, bringing the landscape’s vitality into sight. Blindingly green, much like his eyes. 

 

The hours passed slowly, but pleasantly. He’d been lulled into a clam state of mind, not entirely asleep but neither awake. Stuck in a sheltered state between two world. 

 

He lurched awake in shock when the compartment door slammed open with a bang. Disoriented and    tense, he stared at the cause of the noise, a girl. She was obviously older than Harrison, but still young enough to be a student. High cheekbones, long lashes and long, wavy hair. She was glowing with youth and beauty. Her eyes cut through the air, leaving a bloody path in its wake. 

 

Eyes landing on Harrison, her mouth twitched in displeasure, before she lifted her head and strolled up to him to sit down in the seat in front of him. She crossed her legs and straightened her back in a practiced manner. 

 

Harrison’s eyes flickered momentarily to the open door then back at her. She had yet to mutter a word. Licking his lips, he inhaled. “And you are…?” 

 

She snorted, pushing locks of heir behind her shoulder. “I’ve come to warn you,” A cruel smile. “Now, you probably think you know everything and that _this,“_ she made a vague gesture. “is some astonishing, marvelous dream. Isn’t that right? You’ve read it all, practiced what you can and now… Now, you are ready to take our - _my_ \- world by storm?”

 

The wind outside had picked up and the rain was slamming against the window. Harsh and loud, almost drowning out her cold words. Harrison’s jaw tightened. “No.” Their eyes met. “You know nothing.” Fine, expensive clothes and gold earrings, her wealth was obvious. Ignorance inked into her skin. 

 

She laughed loudly. “ _How amazing, how could this have happened to me. I must be so special!_ “ Her pearly, back eyes shone in delight. “A word of advice,” she stood up and leaned forward to grip Harrison’s chin, black nails sinking into his skin. The forest in his eyes was burning, a sinking feeling in his chest. “We don’t want you. Never did. You’re nothing but an abnormal, damned _creature…_ No… _disease_ that we can’t cure. Muddled both in flesh and blood, what worth are you to our society? We’re only inviting you in, ‘cause you’d put the law of secrecy in danger.”

 

Harrison felt dizzy, a numbing sensation spreading through his body. A thin, almost unnoticeable, layer of ice had begun to spread across the window and the temperature dropped noticeably. 

 

Letting go of his chin, she brushed her hands down before gripping his tie. The sudden change in temperature went unnoticed. She was whispering now. “Are you wondering where my advice comes in?”  Dripping with honey as she tightened his tie uncomfortably. “Your survival depends entirely on us. _Us,_ who’d rather you didn’t exist. So, listen carefully now, boy. _Know your place._ You’re bringing filth with you, it’s etched onto your skin. And we wouldn’t want that to sully our pure, would we?” 

 

He had been waiting for the shock to set in, but it never came, only a slow, chilly realization. 

 

“No? Good,” she leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Walburga Black, a member of the Noble and most Ancient House of Black.” Her smile oozed with distaste. “You’ll thank me later, mudblood.” Then she stepped back to examine Harrison. Whatever she had expected, his cold stare seemed to vex her because her face twisted nastily. 

 

Walburga lifted her head and was about to turn when her eyes fell on the window. Glanced over in ice and completely cutting of the view. Mouth thinning, her confusion was obvious. An unnatural crystallization that obviously had been caused by an unnatural force. She stepped back, staring down at Harrison before storming out of the compartment. Slamming the door close in her hurry.

 

 

As though a breath had been kept, the ice melted with a simple, painful exhale. 

 

 

Harrison stared down at his hands. Pale and thin, a clear lack of proper nutrients. In her eyes he’d seemed weak, a proper victim and easily manipulated with threatening words. He could see it clearly. A desperate need to belong and a naive mind, so easily broken. 

 

A gentle smile and clear, green eyes. Rain thundering in his ears.

 

He should’ve known better than to hope for the impossible. The imagination had endless power in the mind of the hopeful. Harrison had let himself be swept away by the sea, embraced by what-could-be and what-would-be. It had been delightful for a while. However, now only a painful residue remained. 

 

Harrison placed a hand over his heart and closed his eyes. 

 

_Thumb-thumb._

 

_Thumb-thumb._

 

_Thumb-thumb_. 

 

An oddly gentle pain, like his heart had been cut out with silk. Rose petals, red and bleeding left behind.

 

_Yes_ , he thought, _the world hadn't changed at all._

 

As soon as he outran one demon, another took its place. 

 

**øØø**

 

Harrison was exhausted by the time the train arrived at the station. Skin twitchy in uncontrollable anticipation and suspicion. The sky was completely clear by the time he stepped out of the train. Not a cloud in sight, only a blinding blueness. It had done nothing for his darkening mood. In fact, the more he gazed down the horizon the more bitter he became. 

 

He supposed he owed Walburga a favor. Without her cruel words, he would’ve walked off the train with the misconception that he’d escaped. No judging stares, poverty or injustice, only endless possibilities. The unfairness tugged at his skin like a hock. He’d been such a fool. 

 

The fatigue was slowing his mind, muddling his troubling thoughts. A suffocating mess of emotions that had no end nor beginning. Their opinions had no physical power, only emotional and he refused to bow down to their wishes and expectations. He’d show them how _inferior_ he was.

 

They were rounded up by an elderly man as he stepped down the stairs. Thinning hair, missing teeth and a glazed gaze; the man only gathered snide comments and cruel laughs as they were ordered to follow him. He only grinned widely at them and began to trudge up a nearby hill. 

 

Muddy and slippery after the rain, many first years’s expensive clothes met a grimy fate. By the time they saw the castle clearly, Harrison’s shoes were clogged with water and mug. Sweat running down his back as he breathed out harshly. A discreet glance at the some of the other revealed hunched backs and annoyed glares. 

 

Shivering and cold, they were ushered into a small entrance hall where the elderly man strictly told them to stay put. His wrinkled features pulling and twisting in barely concealed irritation, before he disappeared through a side door.

 

He came back minutes later, closely followed by Professor Dumbledore, who smiled brightly. “Welcome! To Hogwarts!” He opened his arms, unusual robes shimmering in various colors. “Now, for the sorting!” Nothing else was said or explained as he turned around and pushed a pair of wooden doors open.

 

Harrison’s breath hitched. There, inside a large hall, floated countless of lit candles. Thousands of stars in a slightly cloudy sky. Here the impossible was possible.

 

They followed Dumbledore’s sparkling robes through the hall towards a slightly raised platform. On the edge stood a stool with an old and battered hat. Lifting his hand, Dumbledore glanced down them over his glasses, eyes twinkling. “Wait here,” then he stepped up beside the hat and cleared his throat. "I`ll read your names up in alphabetical order! When I call your name come up here and sit down, the hat will sort you into the House that will be your home until graduation!”

 

“Bergström, Ad…” The names blended into each other as Harrison gazed around the crowded hall. Silent, expect from a silent buzz in the background. Knowing eyes focused on the hat. 

 

“Law, Harrison.” Swallowing nervously, Harrison walked stiffly to the stool. He avoided Dumbledore’s eyes, focusing on the stone floor. He sat down and the hat fell down over his eyes, shrouding him in darkness. 

 

“You’re back, I see?” A thin, raspy voice slithering inside his head: a trespasser. 

 

Harrison’s jaw tightened. “What?” His voice felt uncomfortably loud. 

 

“No, no,” followed by a light laugh. “You cannot change my mind this time.”

 

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and was about to open his mouth to voice his bewilderment, when a screeching voice thundered above him.  “Slytherin!”  Harrison jerked in shock and felt his cheek heat at the snickers that followed. Ripping the hat off, he passed it none too gently to Dumbledore as he glanced uncertainly around. 

 

The cold stares emitting from one particular table was all he needed. They were eerily quiet as he walked toward them and slipped into a seat at the end of the table. He swallowed harshly, deciding to stare down the table instead of meeting their silent judgement. Harrison could see it clearly. The table was overflowing with rot here too.

 

 

**øØø**

 

A green tinge hung over the room. Low-backed back and dark green button-tufted, leather couches and large bookshelves made up most of the room. Magnificent, in the way a chilly landscape was. Cutting and cold, but beautiful nonetheless.

 

“Now, before you retire, our Head of House, Horace Slughorn would like speak to you. Usual guidelines. Nothing serious.” The dark haired prefect nodded respectfully at the pudgy man at her side, stepping back to let him speak.

 

“Now,” Slughorn straightened his back, a futile attempt at seeming taller than he, in fact, was. “Nothing specific today,” he glanced down at a note in his hands, licking a his lips. “You’ll receive your schedule tomorrow. Any crucial information… Yes… Tomorrow, boys and girls.” Swollen facial features and a hungry face. “Dormitories are obviously to your right and left,” he waved in the direction, nodding quietly to himself. “Now, you may go. You all know the rules…”  The other first years scattered, pushing against each other towards the stairs. Excitement clear in their eyes.

 

Harrison moved to follow, but was stopped by Slughorn’s firm hand clasping his shoulder. “Mr. Law, you may stay.” He declared loudly. 

 

Harrison pressed his lips together and stepped farther away, forcing the man to let go off his shoulder. “Yes,” he fastened his gaze on Slughorn twitching fingers. 

 

Slughorn’s lips pulled down in a contorted smile. “What a surprise!” He said, clasping his sweaty hands restlessly. “A Muggleborn! In my house!” Their eyes meet and a bitting silence filled the room. Slughorn smacked his lips together. “You’re the first of your kind we’ve had in a long while. How proud you must feel!” He leaned forward, expectation clear in his face. 

Harrison was at a lost for words. Swallowing he nodded quietly and tried to pull up the proudest expression he could muster. It resulted in a screwed sight. Eyebrows drawn down in befuddlement, mouth twitching upwards and nose scrunched up; a mixture of emotions. 

 

The silence that followed would be remembered years to come: pure awkwardness at its finest.  

 

After a while, Slughorn coughed, sweat shimmering on his skin. “Well, all good and well… “ His eyes twitched between focus points, never really settling. “Oh, yes… Since you’re a mu… muggleborn so there are certain information I’m required to give you.” He pushed his chest out as he slipped a small envelope out of his front pocket. “These papers are for… hmm, muggleborn registration… They’re very important, please don’t forget to send it in.”

 

Harrison took the envelope carefully, eyebrows furrowing as he stared down the blank surface. “Muggleborn registration?” Then as an afterthought he added, “Sir.”

 

Slughorn glanced around, sighing harshly. “Well, Headmaster Dippet and, of course, the law clearly states that every muggleborn must register upon arrival.” It was only a repetition of what he’d said seconds earlier. 

 

Harrison clasped his own wrist tightly. “Why?” The overwhelming bitterness was boiling over. “If you don’t mind me asking? Does Purebloods need to register too?”

 

The other man scoffed. “Oh goodness, no. They don’t need to be registered.”

 

“What?” A whisper was all he managed as he felt the ice crack beneath his feet. 

 

Slughorn shivered slightly, pulling at his robes. The night was closing in and the temperature was dropping. “Well, Mr. Law… You see there are - hmmm - certain professions in our world that don’t accept Muggleborns. By registering children of two muggles we evade complications. It is a very thought out system. ”  The man had the audacity to laugh warmly. 

 

Harrison stood frozen in front of him, mouth opening in question.

 

Holding up his twitching hand, Slughorn shook his head. “No, before you begin accusing me - us - treating you lot differently, you must know that we are only protecting you. Yes, from your own foolishness. There are certain branches of magic your body cannot handle. It would be dreadful if some of you tried to do the impossible and killed yourself in the process.” His head jerked back, a small smile on his small lips. “Oh dear, just imagine it. A muggleborn trying to achieve an animagus transformation and completely destroying themselves in the act. Horrendous. The world has never been fair, Mr. Law. It would be better to learn that now”

 

The day had begun bathed in sunlight, wondrous and blinding.  However, as hours passed by it had darkened. Slowly but surely, consuming the light until Harrison lost his sight. Blindness in a world that was uncomfortably similar to his own. Without the magic it would’ve been worse. 

 

Harrison stared into Slughorn’s grey eyes. “I thought magic accepted every wizard, no matter blood.” Surely that was the case. 

 

Slughorn laughed, hand resting on his stomach. “In a perfect world that would be the case. The problem, you see, is that your body is not built on the same _material_ as we pureblood are. I am far from an expert on these studies, but from what I know it’s because of your _flesh_. You are a result of two non-magical begins and therefore your flesh is non-magical. Only your soul is magical. Therefore are there some transformations of the physique and mind that your body simply cannot manage.” 

 

“I see…” 

 

Rubbing the nape of his neck, Slughorn pressed his lips together. “Well, yes, good day…” He nodded, more a habit than a gesture of courtesy and stalked out. 

 

The flames flickered in the fireplace, trying fruitlessly to breath some warmth into the freezing room. 

 

Harrison’s skin prickled with cold. 

 

**øØø**

 

 

_A Muggleborn’s physique is composed of Muggle flesh: frail and incapable of carrying magic. Their soul accepts while their flesh rejects. A clear disharmony: an abnormality in magic. [..] They are a result of  lost, corrupted magic. [..] Squibs have been forsaken from magic. However, they can, as a result of pure flesh, view our world. [..]_

 

_The sustainability of a wand depends on the core. The core decides which branch a magical individual is best suited for. White, grey and dark: the three main branches._

_[..] It is a well known fact that dragon heartstring and phoenix feather are cores best suited for the darker branches of magic. Muggleborns cannot be accepted by such a core._

 

_* A Study of Blood, Flesh and Magic: A Muggleborn Edition by N. D. Glinthawk (1721)_

 

**øØø**

 

That night, as Harrison hid himself beneath layers of heated blankets, the gravity of the situation hit him. _This_ world had no desire for him, nor any sympathy for his struggles. He was a necessary evil taken in to protect _their_ world from _his_. 

 

He curled up, gripping his wand tightly in his grip. The heat was suffocating, burning through his very skin. Heavy blankets embracing him cruelly. 

 

Exhaling slowly, Harrison glared into the darkness. If his wand could be broken, so could theirs. No matter how pure their ancestry was. All blood was red and all men could die. 

 

 

 

 

**To be continued!**


	4. To Define Is To Limit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been too long, TOO LONG, since I posted a chapter. Been busy with university and family issues, but now that I'm finally finished with my exams I have time and inspiration to write again!
> 
> I've been struggling with this chapter. It's necessary for the story to progress, but not much happens and there's a lot of internal development, which ends up as a lot of description and not much dialogue. However, I managed to finish it! 
> 
> Not the longest chapter, but I hope you'll enjoy it! XD Your continuous kudos and comments gives me life! Thanks a lot! 
> 
> (Disclaimer, it hasn't been beta read and since I'm not a native English speaker, please let me know if you see any glaring grammatical mistakes)

**IV**

**øØø**

_Dark clouds were handing low on the sky, giving the city a depressing grey hue. It had been pouring for days now. Drops falling down to nourish the moss covering the pavement, one drop at the time. In a city of smoke and rain, the only color came from the thriving moss._

_Harrison swayed on his feet. Rain poured and within seconds his clothes were soaked though, dripping with water and weighting him down. He glanced down at his feet, staring hopelessly at the moss. The world shivered around him and as he stared the moss grew before his eyes. Small sprouts appeared and flowers sprouted. Greenery filled his sight, blinding him with its vitality. Soon enough the hideous grey cobblestones beneath his shoes were covered with a blanked of vegetation._

_He pushed himself forward, moving quietly down the path as plants sprouted beneath his soles. The wind rustled through his curls, calling him further down. By the time he saw his destination - yes, he knew where he was going - Harrison could feel leaves and spines curling around his legs, licking his bared skin. Softly, tenderly trying to seduce him, bring him back to where he came from. Harrison glanced behind him only to see buildings falling apart under the spreading greenery. Now that the flora and fauna had devoured familiar buildings it no longer felt inviting. He swallowed and quickly turned his back on the wild, attempting to ignore their alluring song._ _Harrison's attention fell upon a door on the nearest building. Cracked and splintered from old age, it made him hesitate in uncertainty, but he knew, somehow, that the door was the only reason he had dared to venture further down the dark alley._

_Harrison could do nothing else but stand frozen and stare at the entrance. Unable to move his limbs. The door had, without a doubt, been vividly green at some point, but now, after years of rain and storms the color had faded. Only specks of green paint remained._

_He inhaled slowly, fresh air cooling his nerves, as he stepped closer. Pressing his palm against the door, Harrison felt the uneven surface move beneath his skin. A slight push and the door slid open to reveal consuming darkness. It beckoned him inside, tempting him with songs of glory and awe. The wilderness behind him was all but forgotten as he exhaled sharply and the darkness lounged forward, enveloping him as it pulled him inside._

_The ageing door slammed close behind him. The sound of buildings disintegrating rumbling in his ears._

_A swirl of confusion, voices and odd clothing rushed by Harrison's senses and somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew he was dreaming. Then, like emerging from water, he found himself standing in front of a solid brick wall. It seemed familiar, he had been here once before. Harrison reached out, fingertips reaching for cooled stone. He jolted in surprise as a cold breath caressed his neck, hand freezing. Chapped lips pressed against his ear, excruciatingly tender. An incomprehensible whisper, lost behind his thundering heart, and the stone wall melted, dripping down to reveal a world._ _His breath got caught in his throat and as Harrison felt the ghostly breath withdraw, he stepped forward. It was unlike anything he could have imagined._ _Excitement and wonder blossomed in his stomach, restlessness twisting at his feet._

_Here, the sky was clear. Not a single cloud in sight as far as the eye could see. Unlike the dirty streets_ _of London, the bricks were clean and even. Sun heating his pale cheeks. The street running downwards was barren, not a soul in sight._

_Harrison closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet fragrance. All around him, every brick and stone on the buildings, were built by enormous gingerbread walls, draped in chocolate icing. White glaze, cotton candy and an overwhelming aroma of sugar. The ground was sticky with sweetness and each step was a struggle, shoes glued to the pavement._

_A whisper slithered through the back of his mind. Something uncomfortably familiar and the instinct to run rushed past him. However, as soon as it appeared he had forgotten about it and a smile broke out on his face. Nothing as sweet, sugary and welcoming as this could be dangerous. Harrison moved with cereal steps further down the alley, without a clear purpose in mind._

_Nonetheless, he'd unknowingly decided to walk towards the one building that stod out like a sore thumb among the sugary surroundings. Unlike all the other buildings, this one was build with old bricks and heavy metal. Large windows filled with wands. Worn from age, Harrison couldn't fathom why he moved towards it. Certainly he'd have a better time in any other place  where ehe could gorge himself in sugar and cakes! His mind rebelled and tried to take control of his unruly legs, but they kept moving towards the ominous structure._

_Moved by an unknown force, he stepped up to the door staring through the glass. It was dusty and dark cluttered with boxes upon boxes. Swallowing, Harrison grasped the door handle, preparing to follow the stream. Just as he pulled it down, the door swung open and he fell back as a shadowy figure rushed by._

_Momentary confusion came upon him as he glanced behind himself. A few meters away, standing silently on the sticky pavement he saw himself. His twin, however, was shadowy and vague. A wand gripped tightly between the its thin fingers._

_The environment shimmered and darkened, a shadow falling over the sugary buildings. Harrison stepped back, uneasy, as shadows began to stream down the street. Transparent at first, but as time passed they solidified and formed into tall, pitch-black figures in colourful clothes. Like a road of ants the shadows all moved in one direction, with purpose. In the middel of the stream Harrison’s own phantom was standing, untouched and ignored. Until a shadow dressed in red halted to grip the phantom’s shoulders. From his position, Harrison could see nails biting into black skin, pushing forth a thick, oily substance._

_A face full of white teeth and suddenly all Harrison could see was the red-dressed shadow guiding his own phantom into a gingerbread house. The gingerbread door opened to reveal a sugary household with a dark, rusty oven, flames bright and devouring inside it._

_Harrison opened his lips to scream, yell or beg, because suddenly he was no longer standing by the worn, wooden door. Nails were digging into his shoulder, pushing him towards the open oven hatch. The flames tightened his skin, the wand broke in his hand and in the corner of his eye, the shadowy figure smiled warmly._

**øØø**

Harrison shot forward, breath caught in his throat as he grasped after his wand. It did nothing to soothe his trembling figure, if anything, the presence of the wand between his fingers increased his anxiety. He lacked to knowledge to feel secure behind a stick of wood. A hysterical chuckle passed his lips. He’d feel safer with a knife. At least then, he knew how to use it properly.  

He pushed the blanket off and slipped out of the bed. A warm shower was the only cure to nightly horrors. Or so he had heard. A quick glance towards the other beds revealed closed curtains and quiet snores. Harrison could almost appreciate that the nightmare woke him up earlier than normal. Maybe this way he could avoid his housemates. 

The shower area was pleasantly silent. The only sound his bare feet moving over blindingly white tiles. Hurriedly stripping out of his sweaty pyjamas, Harrison stepped into a warm steam of water. Sighing in content, he let his eyelids slip down. Slowly but surely the heat warmed his body down to his bones. Bringing renewed calm over his frazzled mind. 

Harrison wondered, momentarily, if this was what safety felt like. 

The freezing water came as a shock and he swirled around, confused and panicked. Too late, it seemed, as a couple of harsh hands pushed at his shoulders and he stumbled out of the warm shower, shoulder hitting the wall painfully. Harrison’s heart was thundering in his chest, breath short.

Harrison inhaled slowly as he stared down at his pale feet. Skin prickling with cold and muscles trembling, he felt pitiful, but he refused to let a sound pass his lips. He’d deny his tormentors the joy of hearing his whimpers. He heard them shuffle in front of him while snide laughs and comments passed between them. So they had woken up and while he’d tried to feel safe, taken the opportunity to humiliate him. 

Harrison hated himself for feeling shocked at their behaviour. 

Droplets of water continued to run down his face, dripping from long eyelashes. Still, Harrison stared down, focusing on the water disappearing down the drain. it was an usual occurrence, but until this moment they’d only thrown water at him in bed. A fitting wakeup for someone of his status, or so they’d told him. Most days they’d left after the first bucket of cold water, but they had remained this time. An attempt at cornering him with the unexpected, perhaps? 

It had been unexpected enough that they had intruded on his only safespace. Harrison had felt safe in the shower area, protected behind a line of standard manners. He bit his lips harshly, feeling foolish for believing they actually had any decency at all.  

He lifted his head and stared chilly at them, his housemates. “Are we done?” 

They shifted and glanced at each other before laughing. “Far from it, Mudblood!” A blond haired boy smiled widely and stepped forward to throw another bucket of water. It hit Harrison like a wall of ice, numbing him further. 

He heard them laugh in the distance. Rough, skinny hands pushed him against the shower wall, bruising his pale skin. 

Harrison looked up into his tormentors’ eyes, piercing them with his despair.

They hesitated momentarily before glancing at one another and laughing loudly. “This is only a warning.” Of what he didn't mention. Nonetheless, Harrison could guess what they were trying to accomplish. Bury their own inferiority underneath the misery of another.

He studied them as they turned around to leave. A group of children laughing happily together as they strolled out hand in hand. For them it was an act of bonding and friendship. 

Oh, how wonderful, the things they’d all do together! 

**øØø**

It was laughable: the numbing bewilderment that had spread through his chest. Coating his tongue in thick disappointment, Harrison could only blame himself for allowing hope to take root. 

_Never hope, for hope is a recipe for disaster._

In the end, his mother’s one and only advice gave nothing but misery. 

His life at Hogwarts had been painted in red as his common wizards made sure to remind him of his blood status at every possible instance. Meticulous in their silent acts, certain no one else saw them cornering one of their own. An invisible knife running quietly over his skin, leaving scars no one else but him could see.  

They were the result of a society where no one felt superior and everyone were so certain that they in fact were. It ended in a jumbled and confused mess. Children desperately following a mindset that inherently ran in the society. 

At night, hidden from cruel remarks and desperate actions, Harrison felt uncertain if he could blame them. He’d probably done the same if he’d grown up in their society. Even now, when Muggleborns were targeted, he’d stand by. Staring down their tear drenched face, delighted by the fact that he wasn’t targeted.

Their pitiful cries were easily ignored. 

Never were they outright wounded. Pushed and pushed until they’d cave in and submit. That was the way of the game. Lost books, splintered pens and burned uniforms. The longer he stayed there, the more he saw of his own world. The wonder he’d felt had dimmed. Eyes darkening at the slurs and mouth twisting in distaste.  

There was a storm refusing to leave. Never-ending and confusing, all inhabitants were following the pull of the wind. Gullible and mute, they would all feel content. Every week a few steps closer to self-destruction.

**øØø**

 

Then one morning, three months after the sorting, Harrison awoke to eerie silence. The sheets were warm and comforting, his curtain mostly closed. Only a small ray of light shone through the opening. 

He swallowed and pushed the blankets away slowly. Holding his breath, he listened for the footsteps he’d come to expect. Nothing, only the soothing silence of a calm morning. Harrison pulled the curtain away and slipped his bare feet out onto the cold floor. Beds left empty, clothes forgotten at the floor, they’d gone off without a sound. A fast look at his shelves revealed them untouched. Books left unburned by his bed.

The fact that he’d awaken by himself this morning worried him more than he liked to admit. 

On the way down to breakfast, he walked past several from his house, but none even gave him a glance. It felt like he had awoken in an alternative reality. One where he lacked substance and moved through the world as an invisible creature.

Silent, occupied with conversations within their group and completely disinterested in his slow decent past them. The corridors suddenly felt uncomfortably small. Constricting and suffocating him in total indifference. 

Harrison was uncertain if he wanted to laugh or scream.

His arrival into the Great Hall was left unnoticed. Every table overflowing with food and loud conversations. Laughs and jokes swirling around the room. Wide smiles, mouths stuffed and controlled eyes. Harrison sat down at the end of the table and stared. Is this how they handled it? Acting like blind fools with a purpose. If they acted as though Harrison and his kind didn’t exist, then they would simply disappear into the background? 

It was ridiculous. 

He glanced up as one elderly student sat down in front of him. She picked up a toast, pushed it into her mouth and leaned forward to listen to her neighbours busy discussion. 

Mouth twisting he slammed his fork into the table. “Are you joking with me?!” Loud and clear, they’d all heard it. Some had even jumped in shock at his sudden exclamation. However, no one dared look in his direction. 

Biting into his cheek, Harrison stood up in fury. Nails digging into his palms as he felt the social dagger dig into his throat. He opened his mouth to scream at them, but nothing emerged. The powerlessness suffocated his words and only air left his body. 

Harrison bit into his lips and stalked out of the Great Hall, desperately trying to ignore the snickers following him out. Suppression, no matter what kind never ended well. Did they really believe that if they’d suppress it enough and it would bend over? Harrison knew for a fact that plants and grass, with time, grew past cobbled streets and bricks.

**øØø**

It was unusually warm that February and Harrison had realised he could escape outside to the lake. Few students wandered down to the water so early in the year, so he’d sit alone for hours, unbothered by judging eyes.  Even on cold days, he’d walk shivering over to his secret spot by the forest. Close to the water, with large oak trees behind him and slippery stones, Harrison found peace from the increasing pressure. 

Bare feet splashing into the water, feeling the biting cold turn his toes numb, he allowed a soft, unknown melody to slip past his lips. It flowed through the air, seducing him into a comforting sense of security. 

Eyes slipped close and for a moment, Harrison was the only person in the world.  

“This is my spot,” a silent voice, slithering and soft. 

Harrison looked towards the source of the voice. 

By one of the oak trees stood an older girl. Short, dirty blond hair and a plain face. With clear, blue eyes and dry lips.

Harrison frowned. “It doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“Good,” she replied “then we’ll share. “ She sat down beside him, ignoring his cutting glare, and glanced down at the book in his hands.

“Breaking rules, I see?” She murmured. _“No books outside_! Isn't that what she said? The librarian.”

Harrison stared down at the pages. “What do you want?”

Her laugh was strained and pained. “Never admit your sins, in tact with your house, I see.” Mirth filled eyes, her only attractive feature. “Don’t worry, I won’t snitch. I’m “—“” her name would never matter. Harrison had already forgotten it.

Nonetheless, her surname gave him enough. “You’re a muggleborn.”

“So are you.”

He looked away, bitter.

He saw her lean closer in the corner of his eye. “Awfully quiet, aren't you? And here I thought I’d finally find someone to talk to.” Her strained smile was blinding, desperate. 

Months later, after silent evenings spent by the water. She always intruding, desperately. Harrison found her there one evening, looking silently down into the water. Her blue eyes reflected the muddy water, the shard of light finally snuffed out. Harrison stod silently beside her, at loss for words. Without the clarity in her eyes, she was invisible. 

“I won’t be back here, next year. “ Why’d she felt the need to tell him was unknown. They weren’t friends, they really weren’t. Harrison did not like her . “You should get away from here…” She turned, eyes meeting. Her blue crushed beneath his furious glare. Tears welled and she glanced away, shoulders hunching. “…before it’s too late. They’ll eat us up… I… We can’t…”

He sat down beside her, annoyed at the tight feeling in his chest. They hadn’t spoken much, but he already regretted sharing a few words with her over the past months. Harrison swallowed and looked away.  

He’d never give up, never bow down to their wishes. As she had done.

He’d survive.

**øØø**

As rainy days turned sunny, summer arrived. And with it an unforeseen complication arouse, when it became known that no student could stay at the school during the summer holidays.  

As a result, Harrison had to bite the sour apple and accept that he had to return to his mother, if only for another summer. The trip back to London sped by painlessly and before he even was aware of it, he found himself back in a world he thought he’d left behind. 

Harrison bit his lips,  jacket under his arm as he trudged towards his mother’s apartment. He had never meant to return. Planned on disappearing into another world of wonder. Forever.

_So much wonder it’s overflowing,_ he thought sarcastically to himself. A painful smile pulling at his lips. 

As he rounded the corner, the first thing that caught his eyes was the window. Cracked, blackened and hanging from its hinges, creaking in the wind. His mind registered his movement only after he’d run towards the house. Breathing harshly as he stopped in front of it, baggage and jacked falling to the ground. Eyes wide in disbelief, humidity gathering in their corners. 

The door had crumbled, floorboards caved in and bricks fallen down. There was no smoke, only the aftermath of the destruction. It was a ruin. Only a skeleton left after what could only have been a consuming fire.

Not a big loss for some, but for Harrison it had been a home. His eye stuck in pain and he blinked, refusing to let the treacherous tears fall. He hadn't meant to return. She meant nothing. Nothing at all! 

If she had burned down together with the building, then she had only received what she deserved. Harrison realised he’d been gritting his teeth and tried desperately to relax his jaw, without success. 

“It was quite the spectacle… “ thin and frail, a voice at his side. “Large, red flames - oh dear, oh dear.” 

Harrison glanced at the elderly woman that had stopped at his side. Her wrinkly hands struggling with the weight of the groceries she was carrying. Eyes big in wonder. “Here admiring the destruction, boy?” She turned her beady eyes at him. 

Harrison looked away, blinking. “Yes…” Shifting on his feet, a ball of emotion stuck in his throat. “I’ve been away, I didn’t know it had burned down.” _If she had burned down._

She coughed then smiled in-between bloody fingers. “A few months ago it went up in a… bang! Quite unusual, like an explosion. I have never heard anything like it.”

“Was there anyone inside?” The air silenced, wind cutting into his skin. A Hush. The longest second of his life.

“Nothing was found, unfortunately. Something macabre would’ve been nice for once…” She laughed silently. “Oh well, tragedies… good day, boy” Feet dragging over the ground, she heaved herself forward. Heavy breathing. 

Harrison inhaled harshly, refusing to acknowledge the droplets of water running down his cheeks. 

It still smelt like burned porridge. 

 

**To Be Continued!**


End file.
